Chapter Twenty-Two
.
.
SUMMARY: Feren finally catches up with the group in the tunnels, and reflects upon his own family, as they take the children back to their frantic parents. Then he quickly gathers another rescue party, led by an Elven Healer who could give Lady Hilda a run for her money!
Speaking of Hilda, she and Bard arrive at the Palace, and the Bowman races to the Healing Halls to see his Elf.
.
.
"Mama, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door…"
By Bob Dylan
.
.
The Woodland Realm, 8th December 2944 T.A.
Once Feren had a clear assessment of the situation in the tunnels, he followed King Thranduil's orders to return the children to their frantic parents.
"Elladan needs to stay," Thranduil said, weakly. "Take Amrol and Rahlen and get those children home. Stay with them, but send someone to the Healing House to prepare for our arrival, and make sure to tell them of Evranin's condition."
Amrol went ahead with Maenwen, Rahlen held Dylan's hand as they walked, and Feren carried Rowena and spoke softly to soothe her.
"We are taking you back to your Adar and Naneth, and soon you will be in their arms."
"But that Elf said Nana wanted us to go with him," Rowena sniffed. "My brother tried to fight him off, and…"
"Shhh…" he stroked her hair. "You and your brother were very brave, and we are all proud of you."
"Was he a bad Elf?"
"I am afraid so, sweetling. But all you need to think about is your Ada and Nana, and how happy they will be to see you."
"Is he dead?"
Feren paused. "I promise he will never bother you or anyone else again. You are safe now."
"Okay. I slept a lot, but I didn't mean to."
"That is good. You do not remember much except the tunnels, yes?"
"Uh huh."
"Then that is a blessing, child."
Rowena said nothing more, but pulled the blanket tighter and rested her head on his shoulder, as they quickly made their way back. Ai! That this child should be made into a pawn for such a sick game… Feren's heart skipped a beat as he thought of his own beautiful daughters, and the son they are expecting next year. He would easily trade his life for theirs to keep them safe, and the image of little Dafina, her eyes filled with terror made him ill.
He quickly took a couple of deep breaths, but he couldn't really calm down. Since the day he met his two daughters in the Children's Tent among the ruins of Dale, his heart, his Fëa changed, and although some would say it made him more sensitive, thus weak, he would argue the opposite.
From the day he realized how much he loved Alis and Dafina, he was driven to do his job better, faster, and more effectively because he had to make sure his daughters would be safe from every evil under the sun. He wanted to move mountains, rearrange the stars if it could be managed to keep the innocence and trust in their beautiful blue eyes, and to make sure those smiles, that could melt his heart, never left their faces. 1
When he and Glélindë first became parents, Hilda worked with them to understand the complexities of raising human children, but while the physical needs were different, she assured than that the love was not
"Being a parent means wearing your heart outside of your body," the Lady wrote. "You are about to understand what real worry is like, but you'll discover love in ways you never imagined, and I'm happy for you."
It was true.
When he first arrived at the Palace, he didn't dare go see Gildor and Nielthi, lest he be too shattered to do what he must. He didn't let himself think of their agony; he focused on saving them.
"Commander?" Rahlen broke into his thoughts. "I believe Dylan is worn out from his ordeal."
"Are you well?" Feren asked the boy.
"I want to go home," Dylan's quickly wiped a tear he didn't want them to see.
"Of course, you do, child." Rahlen put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "If you would allow me to carry you, we could hasten our journey to the Palace."
"We could really go faster?" the boy bit his lip. "I hate it here."
"Then jump on my back and hang on," Rahlen stooped so Dylan could crawl on and held his hands in front of his neck. "Here we go!"
"Amrol!" Feren called to the Lieutenant who was holding the dog's leash tight. "How is Maenwen?"
"She is dry, Commander. The exercise is helping her."
"Then she will do better off leash, I think. Let her loose and let us all see if we can keep up!"
"Are we going to have a race?" Rowena asked.
"Would you like to?" Feren asked her. "Do you think we could beat your brother and Rahlen?"
"Umm…" she considered, and for the first time since this whole thing happened, the little girl smiled and nodded her head. "Aye! Race you, Dyl!"
This was good, Feren thought as he ran. The children need to laugh.
He did, too.
At last, they reached the original entrance, which appeared to be a dead end.
"Are we stuck?" Rowena's voice quavered.
"Not at all, child. There is a secret door, do you remember?"
"I do!" Dylan said. "That Elf – Saeros – said some weird words and then a hole just appeared!"
"If you can remember any of those words, it would help us a great deal," Feren said, as he pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here is the spell I was given."
He handed Rowena over to Amrol, and put his hand on the rock. After reciting the spell, a bright light appeared which hurt their eyes at first and the children had to cover them. It was the snow on the ground outside, made brighter by the late-afternoon sun.
"We did it!" Rowena jumped up and down, then looked around. "Where's Nana and Ada?"
"They will meet us at the Healing Hall, where Mistress Ivárë is eagerly awaiting to check you both over to make sure you are well," Feren grinned, as he picked the girl up again. "Shall we go?"
The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Thank you for saving us."
Feren swallowed and once again the image of Alis and Dafina came to mind. "You are most welcome, hênig."
Their party rushed to the back gates, entered the Palace, and raced to the Healing Hall. Amroth, as ordered, went straight to Gildor's apartment to give the parents the good news and escort them to their children.
But his journey was needless, because when they turned the corner and approached the infirmary, Gildor and Nielthi, who were standing with Emëldir, caught sight of them.
"Dylan! Rowena!" they ran down the hall with opened arms.
"Nana! Ada!" Rowena screamed and jumped from Feren's arms to her mother, who grasped the back of her daughter's head and covered her face with kisses and tears.
"Mîr nîn," Nielthi sobbed. "Vuin nîn."
"Are you hurt?" Gildor kneeled and gathered his son into his arms.
"No, Ada, " Dylan smiled at first, but then burst into tears, "but I was so scared. I was so scared…I tried to be brave for Rowena. I wouldn't let him hurt her."
Gildor buried his face in Dylan's shoulder and said, over and over, "De athae, Elbereth Gilthoniel… Belain hanni; Belain hanni…"
"Let us get you all inside so the Healers can have a look at you," Emëldir gently guided the family into the Healing Hall.
"Of course," Gildor wiped his eyes, and picked up the crying child and they all went in.
Ivárë ran up to them. "In there," she pointed to the first treatment room on the right then stopped Feren. "Are they bleeding anywhere?"
"Not that I know of," Feren told her, as Emëldir joined them. "They were put under a sleeping spell for most of the ordeal, which is merciful, and only remember their capture and the tunnels."
"He did take them to the cave?" she asked grimly, then turned to some assistants and directed them to examine the children.
"He did. There was a terrible accident," his mouth formed an angry line, "and you need to be ready. Evranin was trapped under the water and Turamarth nearly died trying to rescue her. Ómar went in after him, but it was Lord Thranduil himself who managed to get her out. I am told Tur had to be revived, and as soon as Elrohir and Elladan can get them warmed enough, they will come through the tunnels."
"Will they be coming through the frozen falls? I can have things ready at the Main Doors." Emëldir asked.
"No, My Lady. The ice on the ceiling collapsed and that way is shut. They managed to all get out in time, but Saeros's body was buried."
"Saeros?" Emëldir asked.
"He is dead. And Evranin…"
"What about Evvy?" the Healer asked.
Feren swallowed. "Evranin was nearly frozen when they managed to get under the ice and pull her out. Daeron has insisted they try to restart her heart. They were still working on her when we left."
"After how long?"
"She was under the water for over twenty minutes, and they had been giving her chest compressions for an hour when I arrived."
He expected the same disapproving attitude as Elrohir, but the Mistress Healer said nothing. "They could be stuck in there for hours. Feren, if you can show us where this entrance is and help us get there, we can bring them what they might need, and help them get out."
"They will also need dry clothing, and boots. Even those who did not go in the water became wet at some point."
"I can take care of that." Emëldir said. "I can meet you back here in fifteen minutes."
.
888888888888
.
The party gathered at the back the Palace and once again, Feren read the spell. They were ready this time with plenty of torches to light their way, and they carried a stack of cots piled with blankets, and supplies.
When the met up with the King and the rescue party, there was no more fuel for the fire, and Daeron and Elrohir were kneeling beside Evranin hands over her heart in deep concentration. Beside her on the pallet lay Turamarth. His face was very pale as Ómar held his hand and prayed.
"Valar be praised!" Elladan waved. "We were trying to decide how to get everyone back. Lord Thranduil should not walk; we have warmed him, but his hands and feet have little feeling."
"I am fine," the Elvenking croaked, then coughed.
"You are not fine, My Lord, but you will be," Ivárë quickly took charge. "Get those litters ready!" she commanded, and they were quickly laid down and unloaded.
She knelt before the Elvenking and checked his eyes and his hands and feet. "Did you take some of that potion?"
"Yes," he told her.
"Take some more. Help the King remove the rest of his clothing and put these on," she handed him some clothes and boots.
"But I have—"
"These are dryer," she interrupted, then looked up to Elladan. "Get him into these, and get him on that cot. He is to be carried back."
"I will not—"
"Yes, you will," she ordered, "or I will put you to sleep; I do not have time to argue."
Without waiting for a reply, the Healer went to see Tur, and carefully listened to his heart and lungs. "They sound rough, but his heart is not too bad." Her eyes met Ómar's. "Tell me exactly what happened to him."
"He was trapped. The rope we had on him caught on a jagged edge and I had to go get him."
"And he was not breathing when you surfaced?"
"He was not," Adamar answered. "I had to push what I could out of his lungs, and he vomited the rest."
"What did the water look like? Was it clear?"
"No," the captain said. "It was tinged with blood and cloudy."
"Ai, gorgor…" she shook her head. "That is a complication. The sooner we get him back the sooner I can properly treat him." She lifted his blanket and saw he was naked. "Better than wet clothing." She signaled for Rahlen to bring another litter and set it down beside them. "Put him on this and wrap him in several blankets up to his chin."
They carefully moved him over and did so, as Ivárë carefully studied Ómar. "You were under too. Are you well? Do not lie; it is better to know now, than to have you fall later and slow us down."
"I—"
"He will be carried too," Adamar said firmly. "He shivers when he thinks no one is looking."
"Are your clothes dry?"
"Yes, but not my boots."
"Get them off and get on this cot. Now."
When the Elven Captain opened his mouth to protest, Ivárë grabbed his nose, held a small bottle to his lips and made him drink.
"Blech!" he shuddered. "This is worse than the other stuff."
"That means it will work," she said mildly, as she turned to Adamar and handed him the bottle. "Give this to Tur a few drops at a time, while we get ready. Just open his mouth and put it in; even if he does not swallow it, his body will absorb it. If you can get it under his tongue it would be better, but getting back quickly is more of a priority."
"It is a blessing he is not awake to taste it," Ómar griped.
Adamar jerked his head toward his brother-in-law. "I suppose grumpiness is a good sign?"
"It is," she came to Prince Legolas and saw his leggings were still wet. "Off," she pointed. "Even you under garments. There are dry clothes over there. What about your feet?"
"They are fine, I think," Legolas looked down.
"We'll know when you take them off. Now hurry! We need to get going, unless, of course, you wish your Adar to remain here?" She scolded.
The prince scrambled over to Amrol and quickly changed.
"I see you have been taking lessons from Lady Hilda," Thranduil smirked, just as he started coughing.
"If you mean she does not suffer fools and has no time for nonsense, then I accept the compliment." She listened to the King's lungs again. "They are clear, but your throat has been irritated and this cold air is not good for it, My Lord. We must go in a few moments."
Finally, the Mistress Healer, a former protégé of Chief Ermon, came to where Daeron and Elrohir hovered over the body of Evranin. Airen and her husband Elion were close by with worried looks, as they laid down the fourth litter and several blankets.
"Will she be all right?" Airen's eyes were wet.
"Let me see." Ivárë squatted down and, without interrupting her colleague's ministrations, laid her hand over Daeron's and closed her eyes.
Her heart was weak, but it was working with Daeron's help, and he was helping her lungs take in air. The Elleth's ribs were badly bruised from the resuscitation efforts , but there were only two fractures. Praise the Valar Elven bones were more pliable than those of Men. If Evranin had been a Woman, her entire ribcage would look like a spiderweb. Still, when they returned, she would sing the bruises down, to lesson her discomfort.
Daeron did not stop his song, but raised his head to meet her eyes. Nothing was said between them, but she gave him a reassuring nod, and checked if the Elleth had any wet clothing that needed to be removed.
"The pallet is too awkward to carry easily," she said, "so we will take her on the litter. But since this surface seems to be warm, I will undress her here, first.
As discreetly as possible, she and Airen managed to take off Evvy's remaining clothing and place two warming blankets against her bare skin. She went around and crouched near Evvy's head and checked for any fever. Ivárë closed her eyes and placed her hands on Evranin's head, and saw…
…nothing. Her mind and fëa was completely quiet.
She quickly looked up to meet Elrohir's gaze and he shook his head sadly, and a sob escaped Airen, and she turned into Elion's shoulder. Daeron noticed the commotion, but set his jaw in determination.
There was tension between the Guardian and the son of Elrond, and Ivárë needed to put a stop to it. "She is ready to go; Elion, Airen, get her on the litter. Elladan," she stood and waved the twin over. "Take your brother's place."
"Mistress I assure you," Elrohir scrambled to his feet to stand in front of her. "My personal feelings do not affect—"
But she interrupted with a wave of her hand and pointed to the cloth bundle near the pallet. "I am told you have Saeros's hand bearing a mysterious ring?"
"Yes."
"Could that thing endanger those who are weak and injured?"
The Son of Elrond closed his eyes in consternation. "Amarth faeg! I should have thought of it, but so much happened all at once…"
"I could be wrong," she assured him, "but we will take no chances, yes?"
"Ivárë, what do you speak of?" Thranduil said from his cot.
"We know nothing about this object, My Lord, and I fear it might not be enough not to touch it. Tur, and especially Evvy, are vulnerable, and we should take measures."
"Excellent thinking." Thranduil's voice still sounded rough. "Elrohir, follow behind us at a safe distance, but when we arrive, arrange for that to be placed in mithril-lined box, hand and all; do not bother to unwrap it. Then place a spell on it to be opened only by myself or Mithrandir."
"It will be done, My Lord."
.
888888888888
.
The Palace of the Woodland Realm
"Are you all right, Hilda?" Bard called over to his friend as the doors to the Woodland Realm appeared up ahead.
"I'm fine, Bard!" she answered briskly, from the back of Tauriel's horse. "I'm a lot stronger than I look – my lands, this horse is smooth as glass!"
Lasbelin tossed his head at the compliment, and neighed loudly.
"He's anxious to get to Mistanâr," Bard observed, then patted Fînlossen's neck. "Easy boy; we'll get you back to Vórima and her little one as soon as we can." [2]
The King of Dale and his Seneschal crossed the bridge and through the Main Doors followed by their escort, and the Elves immediately stepped forward to help Lady Hilda from the saddle and see to the horses.
"I will take care of our horses, My Lady," Cwën tried to take the reins, but Hilda stopped her.
"No, love; someone else will take care of that." Hilda put her arm around the Elleth. "You come with me, and we'll go see about your friend Evvy, yeah?"
The Guardian managed a weak smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
Lady Emëldir did not bother with greetings as she ran up to them. "Everyone is at the Healing Hall, My Lord."
"The children?" Hilda asked as she pulled off her riding gloves. "Are they all right?"
"They are, and their parents are with them. Mistress Ivárë wants them to remain for observation, but there is no sign of illness or injury."
"Oh, praise Ulmo," Hilda sighed, as she removed her cloak and took Cwën's arm. We'll go there right away, then I'll need a bit of a rest."
"Of course, My Lady. Your rooms are prepared."
"Sounds wonderful," Hilda patted the Elleth on the shoulder.
"What happened?" Bard asked Emëldir.
"My Lord, there was a terrible incident in an ice cave not far from here. Saeros was killed, but Evranin fell through some ice, and Tur and Lord Thranduil went in after her. Somehow they managed it, but..."
"What? How?"
"Lord Thranduil is being treated for exposure, as is Turamarth. Evvy was trapped and—" The Council member quickly explained the situation, she must have noticed all the blood leave Bard's face. "Go, My Lord; you will discover the rest when you get there."
All his life, Bard saw what happened to people who fell into the Long Lake during the winter. No one lasted more than a few minutes, and many who were rescued in time would lose fingers, toes and sometimes even hands and feet from the frostbite.
Oh, gods… no, no, no…. His heart pounded as he walked quickly toward the Healing Hall, but visions of his Elf bobbing amongst chunks of ice turned his stomach. His feet moved faster, and soon he was running to the infirmary as fast as his legs could carry him.
Bard whipped around the corners and over the walkways, as the Elven guards cleared the way, and when he reached the entrance to the infirmary, he skidded to a stop with a grace that came from his marriage, but belied the turmoil inside of him.
Feren was in the hall outside talking to Airen and Elion. "Lord Bard," he saluted.
"Wh… How are they? Where's Thranduil?"
"He is there," the Commander pointed to the third room on the right. "And—"
But Bard rushed down the corridor and wrenched the door open it to find his husband in a plain white robe, sitting up on the bed as his hand was being wrapped in cloth by an Elleth. Legolas hovered close by, looking exhausted.
"Bard?" the Elvenking's mouth opened in surprise and relief.
"Oh, gods, are you all right?" he was at the bed and had his arms around him before he could finish his thought. Thranduil returned his embrace, bandage forgotten, but the Healer wisely stepped back to allow them to reunite.
"I am so glad you came," the Elf sighed.
"You jumped into freezing water?" he pulled back and shouted. "You could have been killed! And why are they bandaging your hands if you are… Oh, gods…Legolas!"
Bard jumped back up and grabbed the Elf and hugged him tight. "Are you all right, son?" he held the blonde Elf's face. "Did you get hurt?"
"I am fine, Bard. I did not go in; Evvy was trapped under a chunk of ice bigger than two of these rooms. One of the dogs jumped into to help bring her up, and we hauled all three of them out."
"Are you sure you're all right?" Bard couldn't help but feel the Elf's shoulders and arms and turn his head to and fro. "You don't look injured…" then hugged him again.
"Truly, you do not need to worry," Legolas assured him.
"This is what Bard does," Thranduil smirked. "Just let him fuss."
"Then I am flattered." Legolas laughed and returned Bard's hug before releasing him. "I promise, I am fine. Ada will say the same, but do not believe him."
Bard sat on the bed beside his husband as the Healer resumed her treatment. "What happened out there?"
"I was not present for most of it, but Vildan, Amrol and Rahlen are busy writing an official report while it is fresh in everyone's mind. We will need to meet soon to get the entire story." Thranduil's breathing was rough. "I was not hurt, but my throat and my hands and feet…"
"What about your hands and feet?" Bard's head jerked back. "You don't have to tell me what ice water can do; please tell me these Elves can prevent that!" his head whipped and spoke to the Healer. "He's going to be all right?"
"Fear not, My Lord; I am merely applying a special salve on the King's hands and feet to generate heat and prevent tissue damage. It is a precaution, only."
"Of which I do not need," Thranduil's lips pursed in impatience.
"If they think you need it, you'll do it," Bard's brows drew together, and nodded to Elleth. "Don't listen to him, and do what you have to do."
"That is what Commander Feren said, as well," the Healer smirked smile.
"I do not wish to be trapped in this bed! You cannot make me—"
"I won't be the one making you." The Bowman kissed his cheek. "But you're going to plant your arse all the same."
"Bard!" the Elvenking snapped. "I have to see to—"
"Excuse me," he said to the Healer, who had begun to apply the salve to the King's feet. "What is your name, and how long does he have to have that goop on him?"
"My name is Nellas, My Lord. And the salve must remain for twelve hours, as prescribed by Mistress Ivárë. Then we can be sure there is no nerve damage which will save us a great deal of effort to repair."
"He'll do as he's told," Bard assured her, as she finished up with the feet and started on Thranduil's other hand. "I can guarantee it. I've brought a secret weapon."
"What?" Thranduil demanded.
"Not what, who."
"Who?" The Elvenking's brow furrowed in confusion, but instantly smoothed out and his eyes widened, when a familiar, yet commanding voice was heard from the hall.
"Feren! Where in blazes is everyone? Where are the children?"
"That's who," Bard quirked an eyebrow
"They are fine, My Lady." Came Feren's respectful reply. "They are with their parents in the first room on the left."
"Thank you."
They all listened to the knock and the door open, followed by muffled voices of relief.
"You brought Hilda?" Thranduil gasped.
"She will make Ada behave," Legolas smiled.
"You brought Hilda just to make me behave?"
"No, but I'll take the help where I can get it. So, what else happened? They told me Saeros died and Evvy's in pretty bad shape."
"She is worse than that," Thranduil sank into the pillows. "I am worried, Meleth nîn."
"I know. So, tell me everything, while we wait for Hilda to come in and fuss over you."
Between his husband and his stepson Bard learned the entire story, and he grasped his husband closer to him, closed his eyes and tried to digest the horrors. "And Elrohir just…chopped off the hand? How did he know?"
"He sensed something, though it wasn't visible to the naked eye until the limb was removed."
"And a ring? Where did it come from?"
"I do not know, though we are sure it is full of dark magic. Elrohir cautioned everyone not to touch it, though even through the thick wrappings, he could feel the effects."
"Where is it now? We can't have it out where it could hurt somebody!" the Bowman sighed. "Has Elrohir touched it?"
"No. But I assure you, no one can get to it now. Once we have all recovered, we need to meet and decide what to do about it." He shook his head. "I do not want this object in my Kingdom, but we must know the correct way to dispose of it, or I fear the evil in that thing could…"
"'Infect' others?" Bard finished.
"Exactly. I have sent messages to Galadriel and Mithrandir, hoping for some guidance."
"Good idea," Bard ran his hands over his face. "Oh, shit; I didn't even think to ask how everyone else is. I just heard the words 'ice water' and panicked."
Thranduil lifted a bandaged hand. "Tell him, Ion nîn."
Legolas sighed. "Ómar is doing well; he was not under long enough to be in any danger, but they worry about Turamarth. He is currently under a deep Healing sleep, and they are working to heal his lungs. Ivárë thinks it best that he remains unaware of Evranin's condition for now, lest it hinder his own recovery."
"And just what is Evranin's condition?"
"At this point, her heart and lungs will not operate on their own, and we do not know if she will ever wake up."
"What if she cannot?" Legolas sighed and leaned back in the chair.
"Then I say we keep her going and hope for a miracle anyway." Bard said. "It could happen."
Thranduil agreed with his Bowman. "It really should be up to her father and brother to decide if we should let her pass to the Halls of Mandos, or if someone should take her body to the Havens, in hopes she will revive in Valinor."
"Yes."
The discussion was interrupted by another visitor bursting into the room.
"Thranduil!" Hilda ran to the Elvenking and enveloped him in her arms. "Oh, my boy…they told me what you did and I'm so proud of you!"
Over her shoulder, Thranduil made a face at his husband, then turned to Hilda, making himself look pathetic. "I am glad someone thinks so; Bard yelled at me."
The King of Dale rolled his eyes as Legolas covered his mouth to hide his snicker.
"Go on, then," Bard got off the bed, "milk it for all it's worth, while I check on the others." As he left, Hilda was pulling up Thranduil's blanket and tucking him in, then turned her attentions to his son. He made it out to the hall, when his Elf noticed something was different about the mother of Dale.
"Hilda!" Thranduil squeaked in shock. "You are wearing leggings!"
Bard chortled to himself as he knocked on the door across the hall. "May I come in?"
"Of course, My Lord!"
Gildor and Nielthi were holding their children as if they would never let them go again. Rowena was chewing on a berry tart, while Dylan, snuggled beside his father on the bed, was eating a sandwich.
"Well, that's a good sign," he smiled, and stooped to ruffle Dylan's hair. How do you feel, son?"
"Mmodf," the boy said with his mouth full, then remembered his manners. After swallowing his food, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and said. "We're okay, Lord Bard. Just really hungry."
"I'll bet. I'm told you slept through most of it?"
The boy nodded his head. "Rowena made him mad."
Bard squatted down and whispered. "He hit you, son?"
"He tried to slap my sister for crying, but I grabbed his arm and bit him," the boy's mouth turned up, "as hard as I could!"
"I see he didn't take that well," Bard grabbed the boy's chin and turned it to examine the remnants of a bruise on his cheek. "Does that hurt?"
"No. Mistress Ivárë took care of it. She said she was really proud of me!"
"I am, too." Bard glanced up at Gildor. "Your parents are thrilled to have you back, safe and sound."
"We are, My Lord." Gildor kissed the top of the boy's head as he took another bite.
Ivárë appeared in the doorway. "How are the two of you doing?" She asked. "Now that you have had a chance to calm down a bit, can you tell me if you have any pain or soreness?"
Both children shook their heads.
"Just let me check you over one more time, yes?"
The Healer quickly examined Dylan (who had to stop eating) from head to toe, then did the same for Rowena, who rested her cheek against her Nana's chest.
After she straighten and put her hands on her hips, the Healer nodded with satisfaction, "I see no reason to keep you. But please make sure to tell your parents if you feel any kind of pain, all right?"
"Can I finish my sandwich first?" Dylan asked hopefully.
The Healer's face burst into a lovely smile.
"Of course, you can. Congratulations, to all of you." And with a small nod, she left the room.
"I'll add my own best wishes," Bard patted Nielthi's shoulder, and tweaked Rowena's nose, who snuggled into her Elven mother as she finished her pastry. "If you need anything at all, just let me know, all right?"
"Thank you, My Lord," Gildor and his wife tried to get up to salute, but Bard waved them down.
"Sit, sit. Your children need you."
Bard closed the door behind him, then went to find Turamarth, who was pale and still, while his father, mother and Uncle sat on either side of his bed. Like Thranduil, the Guardian's arms were wrapped in bandages, and he was under several blankets, where Bard assumed the salve had been applied to his legs.
"How is he?" Bard whispered, as he went to Indis and squeezed her elbow.
"The same," Ómar, who was also wearing a white robe and bandages replied softly.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Bard asked him, "I heard you were also carried here."
"That is what I told him," Adamar said, from the other side of the bed.
"They will be bringing another cot." Indis said, "It is the only way we can make him rest."
"Good idea. Don't give Ómar too hard of a time; if this were one of my children, I'd be doing the same thing. So, what does the Healer say?"
"He is very weak, My Lord. As you know, he was not completely recovered from his ordeal in the summer, so the effects of the cold are more severe. Ivárë said his lungs took in soiled water, and it will take some time to heal them, so he will remain in a Sleep for several days."
"But he will be all right?" Bard leaned over and saw the golden jewel was still around his neck. He pointed to it and said, "surely that thing will help him."
"That was given to help his fëa, My Lord; though we do hope it will encourage his body."
"Whatever works," Bard placed his hand on Tur's brow and whispered a short prayer. The Elf's breathing was rougher than Thranduil's, but at least it was regular. "Does he know about Evvy?"
Indis shook her head. "They took him away before they discovered her condition. I fear when he wakes and discovers the truth, it will cause him to relapse."
"By 'relapse,'" Bard's chest twisted, "you don't mean his lungs, do you?"
Indis blinked back tears. "He has come so far, Lord Bard. Yet we still might lose him!"
Bard put his arm around her. "Don't give up; just worry about today, and let tomorrow take care of itself. Percy has a great saying—"
"'One foot in front of the other?'" Adamar's mouth curved up slightly.
The Bowman grinned. "Keep that up, and he'll be wanting his own statue with that etched on it." After patting and squeezing Indis's hand, he said. "I'm going to go see Evvy. Daeron is with him?"
"And so is Idril."
"Good. We will keep you in our prayers. Hilda will be in to check on you soon."
And indeed, Daeron was beside a still and deathly pale Evvy, who was layered in blankets. Idril was gently brushing out her thick blonde hair, and making sure it was completely dry. More important, Bard observed, she was offering the unconscious Elleth, the comfort of a mother's touch. Valar knows the poor girl needs it, Bard thought.
Daeron and another Healer were seated beside her, with their hands underneath the blankets, helping Evvy breath and keep her heart steady. On the side cupboard, a steaming bowl held several leaves of crushed Athelas.
Bard studied the Guardian, and saw he was pale and haggard.
"Daeron, you look exhausted," Bard set his hands on the Elf's shoulders. "They told me how hard you've worked to get her heart started again, and I'm proud of you, but maybe it's time you go get a bit of rest, so you can come back stronger, yeah?"
Bard's eyes lifted to meet Idril's and knew his mother had been telling him the same. With a reassuring nod, he said, "I'm going to go get Ivárë and after she finds someone to take your place, you are going to go get some sleep."
"But—"
"That's an order, Lieutenant. We're not going to add another patient for the Mistress to worry about, is that clear?"
Bard silently closed the door behind him, and after seeking out the Healer, it was soon arranged. "I am working on a schedule for her to be watched constantly. The sons of Elrond have volunteered to stay and help." Ivárë sighed. "Elladan supports Daeron's treatment plan, and has convinced his brother to hope."
"Not sure what that is about, but we can talk about it later," Bard told her. "You've been wonderful, Mistress. Thank you."
"I am simply doing my job, My Lord," she said, but she was clearly pleased.
Before he went back to his husband, the King of Dale arranged for several messages to be sent to Dale, then offered up another prayer for Evvy.
I don't know where she is, but please, send someone to look after her; don't let her wander in the darkness…
.
.
.
NOTES:
[1] From What Makes a King, Ch. 29: /works/10838010/chapters/26920293
[2] Fînlossen and Bowen's mare, Vórima are expecting a foal next July. Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 37: /works/17088320/chapters/47219776